an iambic tetrameter day

The prospect of a poem seems bleak,

but something there wants to speak.

I’ve held the pen to write it down;

The subject does not make a sound.

I’ve pondered on events today;

the health food store to find a way

to curb the rash and joints that burn

and tendons in the thumb that churn.

I stopped to pay my dental bill,

forgot my cleaning date, oh hell.

I went to work, composed a poem

for mothers living in “the home.”

The thunder booming outside falls

to underscore this poem that calls.


Gail (July ’09) says, “The poem tells what kind of a day I had at that particular time, and I chose to exercise the meter (Iambic tetrameter) to convey it.”

* a poem from the Aug 2009 edition of Ninepatch *

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